


Otterly’s Halloween Semi-Short-Story Spooky Street Anthology

by Otterly



Category: Pack Street - Fandom, Zootopia (2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-17 05:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12358059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otterly/pseuds/Otterly
Summary: 3 storiesTwo weeks to work on themPack StreetHalloweengogogo





	1. The Moving Walkway

**Author's Note:**

> Made for /trash/'s Halloween TT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolter delivers lollipops to his favorite jackal. The only problem is that he has to find her mouth, which is gonna be a little hard to do considering her true form is a long ways away, and all the mouths and eyes are creeping him out, and looking at her too much might make him go insane.

The ground beneath Wolter didn’t seem to stay still. It was nice. It almost moved forward with him, and it made him think he was going faster than he actually was, which was nice because he had been here for hours.

The trail was…weird. It was grey, reminding Wolter of concrete. But it wasn’t concrete. It was fleshy? And it throbbed a little under his paws. Every step he took kind of tickled him, almost making him giggle but he could never actually do that in earnest. Not while he was here.

They were watching.

No, Avo was. Those eyes belonged to her, after all.

“You hungry?” he asked. They had actually struck up some good conversation for a few hours, when he first arrived. That fizzled out eventually. Nothing personal, of course. There’s only so much two mam—

Two. Can talk about. There’s only so much two can talk about.

“Starving,” she replied. At least she sounded the same. Albeit a little…

“Well, don’t you worry. I’m almost there — am I almost there?” Wolter tried not to whine.

“Yeah. And I’m not messing with you this time. Just a few more minutes.”

“Thank god.”

“He’s not here, Wolt. Just me.”

“Did you just make that up or do all terrifying monsters come with a set of cheesy lines?”

She laughed, and it was a discordant cacophony of joy from swept up into the air around him, drilling itself into his ears. But he didn’t care too much because it meant that she wasn’t going to kill him.

“So, how often am I gonna have to be doing this?”

“Dunno. I called you in because Betty was busy and the others, well, I don’t know,” the… _she_  trailed off.

Despite what was around him, what he was walking on and what he was feeling, Wolter responded most to the worry in her voice. Worry wasn’t her. He stopped and looked to the side.

Tendrils like a thousand giant snakes slithered in the shadows, forming heads at the ends that were shaped like hers. Some had eyes. Others had mouths. Never both, though. They twitched on occasion, itchy with hunger. At first he thought that they were cute but they were becoming more and more unnerving by the second.

Wolter gestured towards one of the heads, and it swam through the dankness to him. Trembling, he patted the top of it, taking care to not touch any of the eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand.”

If it provided any comfort to his packmate, none of her showed it. The head withdrew, and he was alone once again.

Wolter continued walking.

 

* * *

 

Soon enough, he noticed that the ground wasn’t moving with him anymore.

The aardwolf stopped, feeling the throbbing underneath his paws. He looked up, at the void and the irises looking down. “What gives?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Avo,” he managed, before he fell.

It was like he slipped or something. His body fell backwards, hitting the ground like he had stepped unknowingly onto a frozen lake. Someone made a noise, and he sat up, mane on end. He felt around himself, feeling the sticky warm grey under his paws.

Sticky?

“Avo, what the fuck,” he yelled. “Avo. Avo!”

“Can it, Wolt,” she said, but not confidently. Her voice was no longer safe. “Okay, hold on. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Fucking clearly! What happens if I fall?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could you catch me?”

“Yes, just let me use my hands — oh wait. I don’t have any! So calm down before something bad happens and I can’t save you. What’s the ground feel like?”

“Sticky.”

“Sticky? What the hell?”

His heart pounded loudly against the confines of his chest, threatening to somehow crash through it and be free. He breathed. He breathed out. His paws wiped the sticky feeling off on his shirt and he sat, waiting for instructions.

The silence taunted him.

You shouldn’t have come here.

You’re going to die here.

You look fucking delicious to her right about now you think that a few lollipops are gonna satisfy her she’s gonna fucking eat you how does it feel you’re going to die in this place where no one lives and you’re not going to—

“Wolter?”

He perked up. “Right here, babes.”

“You okay?” she hushed, a perfect combination of disappointed, patronizing and, under all of those layers, genuinely hurt.

“Can I get up now?”

A moment passed as she thought about it. “Try.”

So he tried, finding that the ground was no longer sticky. He continued forward along the trail, grateful to find it moving once again.

* * *

 

“I swear to god I’ve been walking for another hour.”

“You haven’t.”

He bit back a rebuttal. Instead, he listened to the sound of his feet against the path. Maybe she was right. There couldn’t possibly be that much more left.

“Okay, are you sure?”

“Am I sure that you need to shut up and keep walking? Yes.”

“Fine, but I’m not shutting up because the silence is fuckin’ creepy as shit. You think you could make some conversation or something?” he asked.

“Cripes, if I’d known you were gonna be so needy I would have asked the cotton swab for help.”

“Nah. I don’t think you would’ve.”

Her silence conveyed her defeat.

For a moment, Wolter was satisfied with himself.

Then he felt bad. He cleared his throat. “Listen, uh, you don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but if you think I’m ready for a real answer as to how you got here, then I’m all ears. Just don’t tell me not to worry about it again. Just say you don’t want to tell me, if you don’t. But I want to know.”

“I…don’t know.”

“You—“

“No, I don’t. I was just here one day, and—“

“Found you,” he whispered.

The trail ramped down to a stone circle. In the middle of the circle sat a jackal on her knees, and from her back burst the rest of the world. Not _the world_  the world. Just the world around them. The tendrils with the eyes and heads, and the shadows and the light leaked out from her spine like smoke rising from a fire.

It was hard to explain, but there it was.

Wolter felt itchy. He walked over to Avo and knelt. “Man, you’re pretty fucked up, aren’t you?”

“You know I could read your mind right now? Probably find a lifetime of whiskey dick and girls chugging drinks before saying yes to you.”

“That’s a new threat. Go ahead, I’m sure you’ll see that I think you’re much more flexible than you actually are.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop, unwrapping it and placing it in the jackal’s mouth. He lamented the fact that her eyes were rolled back. More than anything right now he wanted a familiar face and all he got was this…white void. He closed the jackal’s mouth for her and took a seat at her side.

Around him, the tendrils squirmed. “God, yes.”

Ignoring Avo’s body suckling lifelessly at the lollipop like some kind of puppet, he turned to the side. One of the bigger heads, sutured together with mouths, had swam over and placed its self beside him.

Wolter wasn’t sure if it could see him, but nonetheless raised an eyebrow. “I thought He wasn’t here.”

“He can be here if he wants to. Just as long as I get my sugar,” It smiled at him with its needle teeth, stopping as soon as it saw him back away reflexively. “Sorry.”

He shook his head, coming closer to the head. “Don’t be. I’m being a dick.”

“No, I get it. I strike fear into the hearts of others and all.”

“Not me,” he lied triumphantly. “Nah, you’re just really ugly.”

It — _She_ , smiled, no teeth this time, which was strangely comforting and more scary at the same time. “Thanks for the lollipop.”

“Sure. When do you need your next one?”

“Sometime right now.”

The aardwolf pulled the now stick (now devoid of candy) out of her mouth and replaced it with a new lollipop. He wanted to face her this time, but found that he couldn’t so he ended up turned away from her again.

Her monster heads were really sort of cute. Like giant puppies, if he really wanted to reach.

“You can go, if you want.”

“Is anyone else scheduled to come?”

“Nah. I’m gonna be here until morning.”

He looked around, looking at the heads with the many eyes in the darkness watching him and for the first time, recognizing the glimmer that shone in their oppressive gaze. “You know what? I think I’ll stay too. Doesn’t matter, right? I’ll just wake up in bed tomorrow anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, you think that we could fool around while we’re here?”

“No. Like, no as in I don’t want to but also you’d probably end up dying.”

“Bummer.”


	2. lagging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anneke begins to see unsettling images right after she steals a weird video tape from her ex-boyfriend’s place.

I’m moving out. Moving on with my life, so to speak. I’ve packed my suitcase and grabbed everything that could possibly belong to me somehow. No more cheap beer smell staining the couch and the rugs. No more pig stench lingering in the air. No more shitty internet, and no more backwater, podunk town. Actually, no, I like Bunnyburrow.

Needless to say though, I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Fuck him.

The weight of my things weighs mildly heavy against my arm as I drag my suitcase towards the door. From the corner of my eyes I take last looks at all the things I’m not gonna miss, humming as I get closer and closer towards the harsh light shining outside.

He’s gone for now. That’s good. I don’t feel like screaming my lungs out today.

I stop for a moment before the door and, not thinking, run through it like its that wall at the train station in Harry Otter. I’m not transported to another place when I pass through, but I kind of feel like it.

I smile. I skip down the path towards the gate and then I see it.

A box near the fence. Away from inside, where all the other things that have been moved around and put into boxes. Weird. If it’s anything worth keeping then why isn’t it with everything else? If it’s just trash, then why hasn’t it been thrown away already?

I’m not putting it back, though. Fuck. Him.

If you think about it, whatever’s in here kinda chose me. So it’s mine. I look both ways, making sure the coast’s clear before I snag myself a really fancy, nice box that is probably the _least_  of what he owes me.

The cab meets me by the pie place. I enter, box in hand. I’m ready.

Pack Street, huh? Wolt found the place for us. Should be fun. Lots of fresh meat. Lots of legroom. Shouldn’t be hard to make it home.

I stroke the box. Fuck him.

* * *

 

“Anna!”

My eyes open as my brother’s voice cuts into the dream. Well, wasn’t really a dream, was it? A memory. Recalling? Don’t know. Don’t care.

It happened like two weeks ago, and that’s supposed to be a whole year in fish years.

Anyway, I’m over it.

My stomach grows, and at the same time I smell grilled cheese with a side of fried crickets.

Fuck. Yes.

I throw a hoodie over my naked self and skip over to the breakfast table, finding my brother in a surreal state for this time of night.

One, he’s fully dressed. Plaid and ripped jeans. Respectable, I guess. Two, he’s almost done his food.

“Rude. You didn’t wait for me?”

“Sohwry,” he warbles through full maw, looking at me apologetically. “Goht a date. Raamemmber?”

“Right. I forgot. Some poor doe you met at a bar last weekend?” I guess. In all honesty I probably wasn’t listening when he first told me because he keeps telling me things while I’m watching TV. Bad habit, yes. Am I sorry? No.

He doesn’t seem to care, though. He nods happily at me and swallows his food with a content little sigh. “Yeah I gotta be ready in — uh, what time is it?”

I slink over to him and turn his head towards the clock on the oven, at which point his eyes dilate into saucers.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, no,” I repeat after him sympathetically.

“I have to be there five minutes ago.”

“If you’re there in ten you can be fashionably late.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

All I feel is a slight breeze before he’s out the door.

I sit down and grab myself some—

“Oh by the way—“

“ _Whuh_ —“ I garble as Wolter’s voice scares me out of me seat. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry — hehe — I just wanted to say that I love you?”

I blink. “You too. Are you coming home tonight?”

“I’m spending like, more than five minutes with a female that isn’t related to me, dude.”

“Right. Dumb question. I’ll call you if anything goes wrong.”

He winks before leaving for good, letting me finish the rest of my meal in silence. Really, Wolt did a spectacular job. Fried crickets are always good, but everything else is just nice and fluffy and the syrup soaks into the pancakes like they’re making sweet, tender love. I finish in what feel like three seconds, lamenting my amazing eating speed when my plate’s clean.

After my belly’s full, I sit back and take a little bit to figure out my plans.

What do I have to do today?

I did the laundry yesterday. Apartment’s clean…enough. Ozzy said he’d be down to get some _delicious_  fast food anytime I wanted, but I’m having a hard time deciding if I want to bang him or not. See, boy hyenas are supposed to be really sweet, which could be nice, but there’s something weird about Ozzy that makes me, like, _not_  want to screw his brains out. But in the good way. Like he’s too good for me or something?

You know, I might just flip a coin later.

And speaking of flipping, that sounds like another word. Specifically the word ‘flicking’, which is kind of the motion that’s involved with what’s suddenly popped up on my to-do list for right the fuck now. Shlicking. That’s the word.

No one’s home. Computer’s not broken. Neither is the TV. Couch looks mighty inviting right about now…

One day I’m gonna have to learn how to say no to myself. One day.

I somersault onto the couch, landing on my back with my knees up and my hoodie drawn up to my chest. Man, my midriff looks fuckin’ sweet. A bit ribby, sure, but I’m not at like, maned wolf supermodel levels of skinny so a little bit of rib is alright. Okay, time to stop screwing around. I look fine. I feel way more than fine. My paw shoots down, slithering across my body towards my—

Something makes a noise. I sit up.

My twin isn’t here. I can’t smell him. Another noise. Like, something opening. Something moving.

“Wolt?” I call, despite knowing that he’s not here. “You there?”

Nothing responds. Just…something. Claws against something.

Fuck. Am I being robbed? I should’ve put on some panties before I ate breakfast. Shit. Why is sleeping commando so good?

I stand and call again. “Uh, hello?”

No more noises. Just silence.

Maybe I just heard so—

Something crashes in the bathroom and it’s strong enough that it can’t possibly be wind or coincidence. Something’s in the apartment with me.

I’m torn. I feel the territorial side of my being take a step towards the bathroom, but that’s as far as I get before I lose my nerve. Home invader? Probably. Hopefully it’s just Charlie. Shit, but I don’t smell her either. The door didn’t even open. A girl that Wolt forgot was here? No, he likes making breakfast for his lays. Can’t be the other way around either since I haven’t gotten laid in a week.

A bang sounds from the bathroom. Why don’t I just go get Al? Shit, no, he’s at work. Everyone’s at work _why am I the only one with a day off in this fuckin’ pack?_

I’m halfway to the bathroom. When did I start moving? Shit, I’m gonna die. I blink—

 

The cold kiss of the porcelain under my feet make me shiver.

When did I get into the bathroom. The water isn’t running. Someone’s in the shower. Nothing’s amiss. When did I get into the bathroom?  
When

There’s someone in the shower. Someone standing in the shower. Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it. Can they see me? I can see them. They’re my height. They — they’re not breathing. I can’t see them breathe. Maybe that’s because of the shadows. Hard to see. I don’t know. Shit.

Okay. I probably blacked out because I’m pissing myself right now and that’s how I got here.

I can’t leave.

I have only one option right now and that’s to pull back the shower curtain, so I might as well do that and then die quickly god why did Wolt have to go so early?

A single step. Easy enough. I take one more, and one more after that.

 

* * *

 

My eyes open and let the light in. Weird dream.

Not really a dream though, I don’t think. I don’t remember yesterday too well.

“Anna?”

Wolt’s here. I turn my head. “Hey.”

“Why’re you on the couch?”

I rub my feet against the fabric. “Dunno. Fell asleep here, I guess.”

“Well, it’s your turn for groceries.”

“Can I get them after breakfast?”

“Obviously.”

He offers me a paw, and after I’m up I let him drag me to the table and put me in a seat. Pancakes and fried crickets again. Easy enough to make and so delicious you’ll never get tired of it. Wolt’s a great brother. I tell him so.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he responds through a mouthful of crickets.

“How’d the thing go?”

“Great! Man, we did this thing where I shined a light into her eyes and then undressed her while she pretended to freeze, or maybe she was, like, _actually_  frozen,” he ponders, shovelling more and more food into his mouth as he goes on. “Okay but here’s the kicker: she has a _sister_  that’s “open to some wild stuff” and she wants me back at her place tomorrow. Can you fuckin’ believe?”

I can’t. “Sounds great, Wolt.”

His grin drops. A few seconds pass as he chews and swallows his food, taking a few more to chug a glass of OJ before addressing me. “You okay?”

“Yeaaah,” I drawl. “Weird dreams and stuff. Sorry. I seriously am hyped for you. Think they might have a wild stuff loving brother?”

Unfortunately, he shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“Eh.”

 

The rest of breakfast passes uneventfully enough. In the blink of an eye I’ve been masked of musk, freshly dressed and on my way to buying a dickload of crickets, pancake mix and hopefully some termite bites.

No one’s out and about right now — either too late or too early, I guess. Kinda sucks but hopefully this trend continues on the way to the store. Not in the mood to wait in line right now. I’m never in the mood to wait in line, though, so that’s probably dumb to say in the first place.

I really need to get laid. Not just _want_ , like normal. I need it. It’s been a decent amount of time since the last but _holy fuck_  it sure hasn’t felt like it. I feel like a goddamn desert with no mirages. I feel like a goat with no grass to eat. I feel like—

Whoah.

There’s a black splotch on the brick wall beside me. It’s not wet. Almost. Kind of. Like it had been painted this morning and it’s already dried.

I hate it.

I’m…itchy, almost. Almost too hot. I really don’t fucking like that spot. Where did it even come from? I’ve been getting shit at this store like every week now. I would have noticed. _I would have noticed._

Breathing heavy. Maybe I should just move on.

Yeah.

My feet feel heavy walking away from the fucked up wall. I have a hard time taking my eyes off of it, but I eventually do.

 

Cripes. The store’s busy. I walk in to the sound of the electric bell chiming, seeing heads turn towards me from the sides of my eyes. A hefty line’s built up at just about all the cashiers and judging from what I can see of the back they’re all only going to build.

Better get this over with. The termite bites are in the back, if I’m remembering correctly.

I make it halfway through the aisle before I start feeling weird, but honestly I’ve been feeling weird all day so a little more won’t be too much to ask of myself.

I find the cereal section where it always is: sitting just before the frozen fish (ugh) and the bug meat. My eyes slide across the colorful boxes, passing through Fox’s Fluffs, resting for a second on Fruity Pebbles and sorting through off-brand bullshit before landing on Termite Bites. Deeeelicious, earthy, and nutritious.

What next…

In my daze I turn around, ignoring the five mammals looking at me like I’m crazy and wander backwards before turning around again and speed-walking forward to the frozen food section.

Crickets. Ground up slabs of the stuff sits chilled in a pile. I pick up a few and snuggle them into the crooks of my arms. Really should have brought like, a tote or something. That’s what people do with totes, right? Put frozen meat in them?

I wave at the wolf staring me down by the fresh pasta and stroll towards the aisle with like, rice and flour and stuff. Your basic all purpose materials for making most food. The pancake mix seems impossible to find at first but I end up finding it under a pile of baking soda.

That’s all the stuff, right? I give a tiger a wink as I pass — guy has his mouth open as he looks at me — and make my way to the congested lines.

Only they’re not congested anymore. I walk right up to the cashier and pay with exact change, which is an oddly satisfying feeling that I’m gonna work on getting from now on. Exact pay only from now on! No more change.

 

 

The hole is back. But it’s not a hole. It looks like one. Or, maybe it doesn’t anymore.

It’s grown. It covers the entire wall now, still almost wet with paint but still dry. Whoever painted this used something shiny.

I don’t think someone painted this.

There’s someone standing next to me. Another aardwolf? I thought me and my brother were the only ones in the area. I clear my throat, and she, he, I can’t really tell their gender because it’s hard for me to look at their face, they grunt softly.

“Do you know when they painted this? I’ve been coming here for a while now and—“

“It’s always been here,” they interrupt.

My head hurts. I try to talk again, but the aardwolf walks off.

 

 

 

I’m home before I know it. Wolter says something that I don’t hear over the sound of someone’s smoothie next door and the TV static screaming quietly in the living room. I make a noise, I think, but I don’t know if he hears me because he looks at me like I’ve put on a wolf costume and started howling. My bed feels nice at least. The covers are a little scratchy but it’s the kind of scratchy you get used to. Like my voice. I hope people get used to my voice. That’d probably be annoying if they didn’t. I fall asleep giggling, letting sleep grip me by the shoulders and push me into a lake.

* * *

 

Wolter shakes me awake.

Why? Well, for no goddamn reason is fucking why.

“What?”

“Going now. Sorry. Just wanted to make sure that—“

“Yeah, okay.”

“I made some salad. It’s on the table so whenever—“

“Yes, Wolter.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

The door closes—

and then it _fucking opens again_.

“Hey I just wanted to—“

“ _Wolter._   _Fuck._ _Off._ ”

My throat’s burning. The blankets are too hot. My sheets are scraping against my fur. Why didn’t I brush it earlier _fuck_.

Gotta sleep. It’s weird that I haven’t had a single dream yet. They’ve been clamouring to ruin me for a few days now. It’d be dumb of them to stop now. I’m tired and hungry. Probably gotta decide what to do — eat or sleep. Wish I could do both.

“Bye,” I hear.

The door closes.

I was mean to Wolt. He can take it. Well, from anyone else. I might be the only mammal he’d need an apology from first. Why did I do that? I’m tired. That’s why. Probably. I’m hungry, too. I need to eat. What time is it?

Legs are killing me for some reason. I think I did more walking than I needed to yesterday.

Better get up. I ignore the soreness in my calves and my thighs and find some of the cereal I bought yesterday, not bothering to pour any of it into a bowl. I know that eating cereal dry is like, using jello for lube and all of that, but for some reason I can’t find it in me to care. God knows that I’m hungry enough.

My crunching drowns out the sound of the nightly news well enough that I barely know what’s happening. Stabbing out on Flock Street? Weird. Serves them right, though. Everyone’s gotta be scared of something sometime.

I should shower.

When was the last time I cleaned up? Do I smell bad? Wolt would have told me. Maybe he was gonna tell me and then couldn’t because I was so sleepy. Still his fault for being so obnoxious, though. I walk into the bathroom and strip my clothes off, glumly taking note of the fact that they’re from yesterday night. Did I sleep for an entire like, 12 hours from when I got back from the grocery store? That’s kinda fucked.

The shower’s running nice and hot. I step into the steam, humming an impromptu melody as the water runs into my fur, travelling soothingly across my skin. My thoughts stop happening.

 

At some point I gotta get out, so I do. Coconut and chocolate cling to my coat, making me smell like one of those fancy chocolate bars that cost like two dollars more than any of the others on the rack at Targoat. Hell yeah.

I towel off, still humming that nameless song that’s been running around in my brain. I walk over to the sink when I’m mostly dry and then something about my reflection strikes me. I don’t look right.

No, that’s not the normal youthful insecurity talking. There’s something weird about me. Or, whatever I’m seeing in the mirror. It’s off. Not just in the face. It’s everywhere. I can’t name it. I can’t…

I wave aimlessly at my reflection. It doesn’t wave back.

I back away, feeling chills as I don’t move in the mirror until I hit the wall and my reflection waves at me before backing up too. We’re off sync. Like it’s a laggy video on fucking Zootube or something. Am I the one who’s lagging here?

I dash out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind me and making way towards the door. Whatever’s happening right now is fucked. I’m not gonna be here to experience it.

There’s something playing on the TV. It’s a video of me. Looks like some kind of shitty camcorder from 2009. The scenery behind me puts me in Bunnyburrow. I don’t have to wonder when. My outfit tells me it’s from last week.

“What am I doing,” I mutter soundlessly to myself. I need to run. _Why aren’t I_.

A stupid forced smile’s on my face, overtaken by a tear or two sliding out of my eyes every so often. I look like a total mess. The grainy video stays eerily steady as I walk down the stairs and towards the fence.

Then: The box. I wipe my tears from my eyes and walk over to it, peering inside.

Who took this video? No one was around. I remember. The angle.

The angle is fucking impossible.

Where is that box?

My feet move before I think. I need to find that box. Where is that box?

I run to my room, flip my mattress over, tear my closet open, dig through all the sections of my wardrobe. Something was in there. I know it. I didn’t come home alone. I need to find it. Need.

It’s not in my room. Shit. Why didn’t I open it as soon as I got home? God, why didn’t I just open it in the cab? I storm out of my room.

There you are. Sitting on the table like you’re creepy or something. You don’t fucking scare me, you stupid square of rotten cardboard and whatever the fuck you’re holding inside of you. I throw it off the table and it lands on the ground, spilling out old hoodies and t-shirts and an old phone like blood out of a cut.

Oh.

I know that phone. It’s Rasher’s. I walk over and fall to my knees, picking it up delicately and turning it on.

Phone background’s still the same. A nice little picture of me in the middle of some street in the Nocturnal District. Lights are all around me, shining dully enough that I’m still the focus of the picture. I’m looking back in what looks to be mid-walk but god knows how many takes I forced him to get.

It worked, though. I look pretty. Nice and happy while I look back at my boyfriend.

Why don’t I feel sick? I should, right? I swipe through the pages — no, page. Everything’s gone. No games or porn calculator apps. No real calculator apps, for that matter. The only thing left is the gallery.

I can’t _not_  open it.

The gallery doesn’t show me a bunch of thumbnails like it normally would. It just takes me to a first picture. Me and Rasher in bed. No clothes off or anything, just…lying there and smiling. Can’t tell when it was taken.

I swipe, coming across more pictures of the same thing. Me and Rasher at the club. On a street. By the water at the beach. In front of a fireplace.

Something’s been welling in my chest but I don’t let it out. I keep swiping. More and more and more of the same photo in different places. God, why do I look so happy?

Are any of these real? How long were we even together?

I try to exit. To get back to the normal gallery or whatever. The phone doesn’t let me.

Keep swiping, I tell myself. I get more of the same.

Then something happens.

Suddenly, I’m alone in the photos. Eating breakfast. Walking around the apartment. Talking to Ozzy in the halls. And I look fucking _terrible_. Black rivers surge out of my eyes. It’s like I put on a thousand layers of mascara and then splashed my face with water.

Why? Who would let me go out like that?

Keep fucking swiping, something tells me. I’m stupid enough to listen.

I get worse. My makeup runs and my fur looks greasy and unkempt, my mouth’s turned into this eternal frown that gets sadder with every picture. There are pictures here that shouldn’t exist. Pictures of me standing stock, looking straight into the camera when I know that no one’s taken a photo of me in the last month. The look in my eyes is the kind that dead mammals get in horror movies and TV shows, and it’s enough to make me shiver.

Oh, hey. There’s one of me sleeping. Tears in my eyes and clutching the pillow like something’s attacking me in my dreams. That’s funny. There’s a paw on my face now. But it’s not any paw from any mammal I’ve seen.

The phone dies. I see an eye in the black mirror left behind. Mascara’s running steadily from its tear ducts. It’s wide and bloodshot.

Somehow, though, I know that it’s not mine.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Maaaan, what a fuckin’ let down. What kinda girl gets sick on the day that they’ve scheduled to have an awesome threesome with her sister and a _smoking_  hot bachelor with no strings attached? That bachelor is me, by the way. Just in case there was any doubt, which there really shouldn’t have been. Shame on you, whoever you are.

At least I get to sleep in my own bed tonight. Today. Whatever. Deer beds are a little stiff. Or maybe I’m too soft. Anyway, speaking of sick, I think Anna’s pretty sick. Not in the good way. Gotta make sure she’s fine. S’not like her to get all bitchy with me. Like, _actually_  bitchy. Not just the normal kind of bitchy that you get when you live with chicks.

I jog up the stairs with some Bug Burga in hand. If there’s anything that’ll help Anna with her bitch sickness it’s gonna be some greasy, delicious fast food. Oh, fuck. What if she’s just PMSing? I should have got some ice cream or something too. Whatever, this is gonna have to do.

Something’s rustling from the other side of the door. Crap. Hopefully no one’s over. It’s not so much that it’s gross that my sister’s banging someone, it’s that she looks like me but with a pussy and whenever I accidentally walk in on her with someone…shit’s a little confusing.

Clenching my teeth, I open the door.

Who fucked up the apartment? Robbers. Shit. I look around, looking at the upturned couches and table and what the fuck is that a chair from _my_  room?

“Anna?” I venture. God. Please be alright. I step through the door and into the storm. “Hey. Who the fuck’s in here?”

Nothing answers me. I sniff around, looking for anything unfamiliar. Food, stale food, lube, old laundry, my sister, not my sister. Not my sister. Wait, no. That’s my sister. I think. What the fuck?

Something tackles me. We fall to the ground together, knocking my skull against the wood floor. A set of claws cut my biceps up and try to get at my throat, but I grab the intruder by the wrist just in time.

I yell incomprehensibly, shoving her arm away and slapping her in the face with my free hand, to which she screams in a voice that sounds like she’s deep-throating a cactus.

“Get the _shit_  offa me,” I growl. “Where’s my—“

Anneke’s the mammal on me. Her hair is fucked up. It’s way past erect, looking like needles protruding out of her skull. Her eyes are all black — not good. And her _scent_. When we were kids, we went to this funeral and—

She roars, to which I roar back, and she sprints the fuck away on all fours. I roll over, getting on one knee and looking around my obliterated apartment. “Yo, what the hell’s going on?”

I see my sister’s head slowly peek out from behind the couch. “Yo, what the hell’s going on?”

“Real mature, Anna. Since when could you do a perfect impression of my voice?”

“Not your sister.”

“Really? Because you look a lot like her. Down to the no pants around the house.”

The aardwolf — she says she’s not Anneke but I don’t believe her — screams again. I remember the open door. Hopefully someone notices and comes to the rescue. I’m about to tell her to shut up when she turns around, stiff as a puppet or a really well made action figure, and climbs up the fucking wall. Like, horror movie demon shit.

“ _Oh, shit,_ ” I exclaim, getting up and staring at my twin. “This isn’t a prank or anything, is it?”

Anna doesn’t answer. Instead, she screams again and crawls towards me, sticking to the ceiling like she’s in The Exorcist. I sprint away, running down the hall, into her room. I mutter a quick “Sorry,” before slamming the door on her and locking it. Thank god she talked me into buying locks when we first came in here.

At first, I think I’m fine. But that’s just because it takes her a minute to get in front of the door — ceilings are probably hard to move around on. Fists bang against the wood and the walls, trying desperately to get inside and failing. For now. Going by movie rules I think I have like a minute or two to figure out some weird gameplan before the demon breaks in.

Not the demon, sorry. My sister. No one’s out there but my sister.

I look around her room — completely fine. Not one thing’s out of place.

Fuck. That. Bitch.

Who trashes every single fucking room in the house except for their own? I start pacing around, looking for baseball bats or batons or even a riding crop. I need something to knock her out with.

The slamming stops.

“Anna?” I call. “You out there?”

She might have fallen down from the wall and knocked herself out. Or cracked her skull open. I need to get out there.

I dash to the door, but the lock turns before I can get a handle on it. It slams open, and coming flying at me is Anna in all her rage and sadness. Mustering what must have been, like ninja skills in another life, I throw her off of me before she claws and push her onto the bed. I run out of the door, wanting to kill myself as soon as I realize that I forgot to lock and close it.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” I groan, spotting a box in the middle of the carpet.

Maybe there’s a gun in there. I don’t know. I run over and kneel beside it, finding a phone I don’t recognize and a book in Bearruskian. I throw the phone away and open the book, finding weirdly drawn pictures of crying foxes and tigers with their tits out and bird wings sprouting from their backs. Some weird-ass porn if I’m being honest.

A sharp pain squishes into my thigh and I scream.

“ _Argh!_  Bitch!” I rasp, snapping my jaws in front of Annie’s face and grabbing her wrists again. She twists a little. I don’t even have any swears for how much it hurts. I cry out, squeezing tight on her and pulling the chef knife out of my leg before I crawl to the bathroom.

Inside me settles that unimaginable kind of pain that you feel when your gums are being injected with anaesthesia, or when you jizz too early but she doesn’t notice and doubles down on her riding. I yell again. No words. Just the kind of intensity that you get when you might die.

Nope. Not dying here. Not dying. I just—

The door swings open. I don’t bother remembering whether I locked it or not because it’s fucking over for me. I’m pushed off of my feet, crashing headfirst into the shower wall.

Dizzy. I feel my head, wanting to say something when I feel that there’s a spot on it that’s warm and wet. But I can’t say anything. All I do is adjust my seating, laying my back flat against the cold wall as my sister takes a step towards me.

That’s my sister. I close my eyes. My sister. I breathe out. She’d never.

* * *

 

Just  
                                                   FUCKING kill him, something says to me. I don’t have the thoughts to think, so I

do.

Blood’s on my paws. Blood’s in my veins. Blood’s hot in more ways than one.

My legs move on their own. My hands. All of them come at my command.

Haha. Come.

I don’t deserve this. I deserve so much worse.

                          I should be alone. I’m going to be.

The floor is cold. That’s funny. I take a step towards the aardwolf, who’s got some blood running down his head. Who is this, again?

Do I know you?

I stop. No, I don’t. Do I. No. Wait. Do I?

“Anna?” he asks.

It’s Wolter.

I step back, against my will and according to it.

Out of the corner of my eye  
                               I see it. There’s an aardwolf in the mirror with bad makeup and a shitty hairdo.

I see a monster covered in blood with blacks in her eyes.

“Anna?” someone asks again. “Hey.”

The blood’s getting cold. Her stripes look like scars against the beige of her fur.

“You see her, don’t you?” he says.

“I do.”

“That’s my sister.”

She looks sad.  
                                                           fucking pathetic

I’m gripping a knife. I don’t know what to do so I drop it. My eyes stay on the mirror.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” he asks. Why would he ask me that?

The fur on my paws is sticky. Wash them. Get them more wet.

I can’t think.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey, you see her, don’t you?” he coos. “Look at that. Isn’t she nice?”

“No.”

“Maybe not all the time, no. But deep down, you know. Do you see her?”

I don’t.                                                          I don’t know.

“Hey,” he’s using his man voice. When he gets all serious he has this serious voice he uses and no one can tell he’s using it but me.

Fingers touch my face

  
         bite them off

 

My chin turns towards Wolter and I see him. Him and myself. My heart steadies for the first time in ages.

“Look,” he begins. “I don’t know what’s going on or whatever but I know you, and you’re not like this. You’re stronger than this. You’re happy and you smile a lot and you’re the funnest aardwolf in town. Excluding me.”

His mouth turns up into a weak smile. Mine follows.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “There’s Anna.”

I try to say words, but I just end up crying.

* * *

 

My sleeps are getting better. I don’t dream about bad shit anymore, and when I do it’s always with the happy ending. The real ending. Like I dreamed today! That brings up some weird questions, actually. Are dreams that are just memories really dreams or are they just memories?

The pretty shade creeping in around me says that it’s time to get up, and for once I don’t wait around for Wolt or my phone to do it for me. An entire day is waiting. A whole, beautiful 16 hours or so is sitting patiently for me to come and do absolutely nothing but whatever I want with them. Oh, and Wolt too. He’ll probably tag along. But it’s mostly _my_  day off.

Hoodie? Check. Short-shorts? Hell yeah. I throw them on after I find them in the midst of my laundry hamper and skip outside. Fresh (bug) bacon’s on the grill, sizzling cheerily as it cooks to the perfect temperature — no, those are burning.

“Wooooolt,” I moan, speed-walking over and dumping the seared bacon onto a big plate. “Are you trying to kill me or something?”

He busts out of the bathroom, smelling like minty aftershave. “Oops. My bad, I kept cutting the floss on my claws.”

“It’s fine, I got it,” I say. Apparently I’ve been in auto-pilot, because the table’s already been set and I’m already sitting down. I give myself an exact half of the food we have and wait for Wolter to join me. “Hey — we have anything to do today?”

“Nope! Wasn’t that the point?”

I nod, watching him smirk cheerfully. “There’s something I had in mind, though. There’s that sweet fuckin’ Sheepenstein movie that came out last week. Wanna go see it?”

“Not really,” he fake-admits. I know because the smirk on his face has gone from happy to a weird blend of excited and shameful. “But, you know, if you wanted to go.”

“We’re going then,” I decide. “Like now.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Kay.”

We polish off the rest of our food in a stupid amount of time, and he gets up to wait by the door.

“Check your make-up or whatever cause I know you have to,” he waves me off before I can ask.

“I’ll just be a second,” I lie happily as I skip back into my room.

Forgot my phone. Can’t leave without that. Twenty first fuckin’ century. I find it charging on my pillow, waiting for me to pick it up and go out into the world to kick some ass. Or, you know, get some good seats at the movie, record it, sell it to Charlie (I can smell the sketch on that fox) and probably make some much needed moola.

Then it catches my eye, nestled behind my nightstand. Another phone.

I pick it up, opening the gallery to look at the pictures — feeling something hard to explain hug my brain and squeeze my sides. My smile today’s almost as happy as the girl’s in the photo. Almost. But, whatever. We’re getting there.

My brother calls my name, to which I respond with a bellowing “Comiiiing,” before turning back. It’s a nice picture, at least. Lighting and all. Me and Him. Him and Me. Together. When I breathe out next, it’s all shaky.

I put the phone done and head out the door. They’re memories, after all. They can’t hurt me.

I’m glad we burned that book, though. No fuckin’ idea what was up with that.


	3. I'm Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s sad that you can’t see me, isn’t it? I’m not the only one who thinks so? But don’t worry.  
> I’m here. You’ll be okay. Just keep on moving.

Hi, Ozzy. You’re looking great. You’re healthy, and you should smile more.

Sometimes I think about you and I’ll smile because I know that you’re okay. Is that weird?

Anyways, I’m sorry for today. It’s not going to be good.

When you wake up frowning just remember that I’m here. I’m always gonna be here. Until I’m not. I don’t know about then. But for now, I’m here, and you should be smiling.

You’re not though. That’s okay. Just get out of bed.

Get out of bed.

There you go! You’re doing great.

Don’t cry.

Good. You’ve got this. Up until you’re done making breakfast, you’re fine. After that it’s going to be a little difficult. First, you’re gonna get dressed.

Easy enough, right? The hard part comes next: getting out the front door. I understand. I understand, god I understand but you need to get out into the world because if you don’t — they’re coming in here.

Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me. I know you can’t hear me right now.

Lucky for the both of us you don’t have a job, else this might be hard. The subs shop’s just around the corner. Subs are great, don’t you think? Especially the Pandian ones. Or are those from that other culture that I can’t pronounce? It’s hard to think right now. You’d understand. Oh, but some nice tuna pâté and sriracha on that special bread would be nice.

Sorry, I don’t mean to taunt you. I see you looking at the menu like that. It’s hard seeing red now, huh?

That’s alright. That’s alright. Don’t cry. _Don’t cry._

Good. Now, eat.

Was that hard? I don’t know because I’m not you. Whatever you say I’ll believe. Whatever you hint at, I mean.

Get some water for the road and toss your trash in the bin. Out you go, smooth and steady. Very nice.

Walk. That’s all you need to do. Now I understand that you might want to run — running feels like a good options for just about anything right now — but you’re gonna have to walk for me. Thank you. Smooth and steady, like I said.

I see your legs shaking. Try and keep them still. Look, you can’t walk normally if your legs are shaking. You just can’t.

Okay. Next step. The alley.

Don’t despair, Ozzy. You’re a good boy. You’re innocent and so very sweet, I know you’d never do anything any harm.

Stop crying.

Stand still. Stop crying. Wipe your tears. There you go. I forgive you. I wish you could hear me right now.

There’s a ball. Ball is fun. Ball is life. Pick it up.

Thank god.

Hey hey hey hey hey, it’s Wooly B! There he is, right on schedule. Feels weird to have stalked him for so long but we need to be thorough. It’s barely stalking anyway. You were just doing what you needed to do.

Now play. He can’t resist a game.

Smile, Ozzy. Your smile’s so bright and happy. Makes me wanna smile, too.

Now don’t think about me. This is the one time you don’t need to.

Good.

An hour passes without too much happening. There’s debate about natural athleticism in preds but, wow, Ozzy, you’re not shabby in the least. Great job you did with yourself, there. Maybe it was chance. Genetics and all.

Anyway, say goodbye. You have some other business to attend to.

Like me.

Catch a bus. Say hi to the driver. I don’t know why I’m telling you these things — they’re all things that you’ll do regardless.

No one talks to you during the ride. Sad, but okay. At least then you won’t have to pretend for anybody.

You get off at the stop by the liquor store and purchase a six-pack. Some sort of lager because everything else isn’t as good to you. No one talks to you here, either. At this point I want to cry, but I can’t.

The park is your last stop. There’s a hole in the fence along the trail and a big field beyond that.

The grassy greens of the fields always makes you sneeze but you come anyway, and for what? I feel like the luckiest mammal in the world, Ozzy.

Why did you stop?

Oh.

Someone’s there. Play it cool. He doesn’t know, Ozzy. He doesn’t know. Who could possibly know even a word of what happened? I see your lip quivering. Please don’t cry. Not here. Not now.

Say hi. Ask him how he’s doing. Make some small talk. I can see you dying inside. Just a little bit more.

You’re here to do drugs. Laugh about it. Good. He’s laughing with you. Don’t stop now.

Good. Continue on your way, stop and check your phone. Pretend to call someone while you look back, hoping to god that he’s leaving, and he is.

You can go ahead, now. There’s a field past this rudimentary trail and past the field there’s a few trees. Their leaves bleed red and orange and yellow.

You kneel by the tree and you cry. But you shouldn’t, Ozzy. You’ve barely even cracked open a beer!

Hey, shh. I’m here. I’m not down there.

I’m your friend, Ozzy. It’s not like you killed me on purpose.


End file.
